Open Windows
by PersephoneQ
Summary: Tony is the son of the rightful king of Asgard, Howard, who was murdered by his brother, Odin, for the throne. Tony and a group of friends set off to avenge him by kidnapping Odins son, Thor, and demanding he reveal his deeds to his subjects. Things get interesting when they grab the wrong one. Whats even better-he is more than willing to help. Loki/Tony.


**Chapter One: Don't forget the lasers**

* * *

Walking down the dirty, trash filled streets of Background New York, Tony was elated. No, Tony was ecstatic.

Sure, Pepper had finally dropped the "we should take a break" bomb. Yeah, Banner had had one of his "trips" last night and he'd ended up sleeping on Clint and Natasha's couch, trying to hide both a broken arm and a hangover. And okay, maybe it was also just twenty-four hours away from The Anniversary-but it was okay.

All of that was okay. Because Tony Stark-backstreet, dirt poor, orphaned genius, Tony Stark-was going to kidnap the King's precious son. Tony was going to kidnap Thor Odinson. And he couldn't be happier.

When he met up with Steve at the shop, though, he was having much the opposite reaction.

"Tony, _what_ are we doing? Really, what? Because I just don't know anymore.", he said as he paced and waved his hands and paced some more.

"Gee, Rogers, I don't know. I thought we were kidnapping the kings son, but maybe-"

"Shh!" Steve raced over and shoved a sweaty hand over Tonys big, snarky mug. "You shouldn't talk about it with so many people around!", he said as he looked around frantically for onlookers.

Tony glared at his old frenemy and licked his hand. Steve grimaced and pulled away, wiping the hand down the front of his pants. "I hate it when you do that.", he whined.

Tony smiled pleasantly. "And I hate having to do it, but that's not my fault, now is it? By the way, you can stop searching for prying ears; we're in a storage shed behind the most back alley ice cream store in history. I'm pretty sure our secrets safe."

Steve gave Tony a face and resumed his pacing, head down, hands either behind his back or acting out a flag show without the flags. "But _why_, Tony, why are we-you know. There are millions of groups all over the world trying to stop King Odin, why do _we_ have to be the ones to actually do something about it? We're only eighteen! I don't even have a car yet!"

Tony stuck a finger in the air. "Correction! You are eighteen. Bruce and I are nineteen, Clint is twenty one, and Tasha is twenty five. I think."

Steve gestured flabbergastedly at Tony, who had climbed his way to the top of the tallest stack of crates and was disabling the security camera with a toothpick and the safety pin he used to keep his pants up. Luckily, Tony and Steve had shared a bunk for three years and had seen much more than just his boxers before.

"Exactly! You're too young to be taking down _anything_, let alone a whole kingdom! Is this really what you want to do with your life? I mean, you'll have to go into hiding! You'll have to survive on _rations_ and money won't be so-_around_, like it is now. And what about-"

"Steve William Rogers, will you shut up and let me work?", Tony said in his most commanding voice. He rarely got to use it now that Steve was about a foot taller, twice as muscular as Tony (although, really, a squirrel was more muscular than Tony too), and three times as responsible-but it still worked just as well.

Steve stopped, his mouth still agape, dropped his hands and crossed his arms, waiting impatiently for his friend(ish-ly acquaintance-for-an-extended-amount-of-time). Finally, after a bit of jumping and jabbing, Tony got the thing down. Twice, Steve considered asking Tony if he wanted help, but he knew Tony wouldn't except it. He was just that kind of person; stubborn, obnoxious, honest.

After that, Tony had the thing off and erased in seconds. Seven, exactly. A new record.

"You know, I don't think that's necessary anymore. If that thing ever got checked, we'd have been shut down _months_ ago."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I figured that out. This is just, I don't know, habit now. I guess I'm gonna miss that.", he said, voice softer.

Steve nodded, smiling sadly. "There's a lot of things to miss here, huh?"

Tony laid back, legs dangling off the side of the crate, so Steve couldn't see him tearing up. "Yeah, I guess there is." he whispered.

Steve heard him nonetheless and sighed. "Are you sure you wanna do this, Tony? It's a big risk to take."

Tony wiped his eyes, sat up, and nodded, not caring that his face was red. "Sure I am! But if _you're_ gettin' cold feet, you can always just back out, ya know. We got plenty of workers and I don't need any hangnails."

Steve scoffed. "Oh no, Tony, you're not shaking me off that easy. I go where you go-you know that."

Tony rolled his eyes and hoped down, stumbling when he landed and wincing slightly when his arm bumped against a cart. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't told you about dear old Daddy."

Steve frowned and pointed to his arm. "Problem?"

Tony bristled and tucked his arm protectively behind his back. "Nope! Right as rain since Tuesday. Now, if you wouldn't mind handing me the phone, I need to call Bruce and make sure he knows where we're meeting."

Steve narrowed his eyes, but handed it over. Tony was an expert liar and had been since they were young, but he'd never been able to lie to Steve. And this? It was classic Tony Diversion. Steve knew all the signs; his eyes got big, his voice got tense, and all his old ticks and itches came back. It always made Steve worry for him.

"That's another thing.", he said, going back to his pacing but never taking his eyes off Tonys rapidly typing fingers. "Why didn't Banner come with you? You two are still rooming, aren't you? Now that Fury's finally let you off his tally."

Tony shrugged. "Slept at Bartons'. No biggie."

Ah. And there it was. "But why? You haven't stayed at his place since before Fury's. Right?"

Tonys fingers stopped flitting, and then, Tony stopped too. He sighed, soft yet deep, and sat the old contraption down before giving Steve a tired look. "Does it really matter Steve? Yeah, I stay at Romanoff and Bartons' sometimes-so what? What do you care?"

Steve glared, ready to tear into Tony about how he needed to start letting people in and how he couldn't keep hiding things from him-when he noticed something. Tony hadn't moved his left arm all day.

"Tony. Give me your arm."

Tony flinched and a hand came up to the wounded limb. "No! You don't get to go around and-"

Steve took a few deep breathes, so he wouldn't start shouting (nothing spooked Tony more than Steve yelling). "Tony, I swear to God, if you don't give me your god**** arm-"

Tony's eyes widened and he stopped his shuffling, instead just quivering like a scared deer. For half a second Steve thought he was really gonna do it, just run out of there like he always used to. Then-

"Please don't hurt him.", Tony whispered as he tugged off his hoodie and revealed his arm-his very oddly bent and bruised left arm. Steve sucked in a breath and was next to his friend in seconds. Softly, he grabbed his arm, careful to do so slower when Tony hissed.

"Tony-I-how...", Steve said, trying with all his might not to just run off and find Banner and skin him alive. As much as he wanted to, Tony needed him right now.

"It was an accident. He didn't mean to, he just-he gets-"

"Angry.", Steve said, sounding more than just us a little bit angry himself. "I know."

Tony sighed, glaring. "Well what do you expect me to do? Hit back? His father sold him when he was _thirteen_! They made him _kill_ people! What do you do with a guy like that, huh? What do you do?"

"Well, for starters, you don't take him in!"

"No one else was gonna do it.", Tony hissed.

"And that means _you_ have to?", Steve roared, making Tony flinch. Steve took a deep breath to calm himself down and started again. "Tony, he's a psychopath. I know you're trying your hardest to fix this-fix him-but...it's been years. If it could've been done, it would've been done by now. Maybe you should just...let him go-"

Tony ripped his arm out of Steve's hands and backed up, looking horrified. "He's a stray, Steve. What am I supposed to do? He's a stray...", Tony yelled hysterically, tears running down his face. The last bit, he repeated to himself a few times before running off, leaving Steve with a beeping phone, a handful of worries, and a broken heart.

Steve sighed and picked up the phone, answering Bruce's text of "Will do, htl" (A/N: Hulk Talk Later, an acronym Tony made years ago to disguise Bruce's "little problem" when Steve snooped on his phone) with, "meet you there in ten", and left the garage of Coulson's Parlor.

As Steve crossed Hampton St. to Reader Blvd. and hopped on the city bus, he thought about what Tony had said. _He's a stray, he's a stray, he's a stray..._

Tony had said that before. When had he said that before?

* * *

When Steve got to the old Wendy's on the corner of Fourth and Park Ave., Tony had beat him by a mile. He and Bruce were working on the ship. Natasha was doing a crossword puzzle inside the cockpit, Tony was sitting on Clint's shoulders to fix the shooters on the top, and Bruce worked on the boosters and blasters on the bottom, laying on his back on an old scooter under the massive thing.

Good. Steve didn't think he'd be able to handle seeing Bruce yet. He just had to avoid anyone else noticing him for a few more minutes-

"Oh hey, Steve! Coulson let you out early?" Clint shouted, no doubt sensing Steve's hope for secrecy and squashing it mercilessly. "God, I swear that man is in love with you."

Tony tensed a bit, but didn't stop and look. Bruce, though, did. Rolling out from under the ship and wiping the motor oil and grease off on a towel nearby, he grinned.

"Oh, I wouldn't say 'love'. No, Phil's incapable of that, right Tony? It's probably just a man-crush."

Tony laughed, but it was stale. "See, I knew there was a reason I kept you around! It's obvious that guy's a robot and therefore incapable of love. He's probably just looking out to recruit a new drone and thinks you're the perfect fit.", Tony said, turning a gear so hard, Steve winced.

Natasha looked up from her crossword long enough to say, "That's not what I heard."

Clint straightened in pride, causing Tony to wobble a bit. "See! Even Natasha agrees; Coulson is _so_ not a robot."

Natasha rolled her eyes but smiled. "Not that, dumb***, about him not loving anyone. But _I_ heard-"

Tony, bangs covering his ducked face, shoved the lid to the cockpit back down, muting Natasha's gossip. Everyone went silent for a bit before Clint and Bruce began laughing like crazy. When Natasha began grating at the lock with her knife and making horrid gestures with her unoccupied hand, that stopped quickly.

Tony fidgeted for a minute, not wanting to let the dangerous "retired" social worker out but not wanting her to break the latch either, especially with so little time left to fix it. Finally, he pointed to an old light switch on the side of the dash. Natasha gave him a suspicious look before flicking it. Slowly, slowly, the automated lid went up. Tony looked proud of his creation, while Bruce merely arched an eyebrow and scooted back under the ship. In annoyance, Natasha pushed it the rest of the way up and climbed out, leaving the game book in the chair.

"Tony, I'm gonna-I so would-if wasn't-", Natasha took a deep breath, hands still up at her waist making threatening choking motions with her hands. Tony smirked and pointed at them nonchalantly. "You should get that checked out."

Natasha's left eye twitched, a sure sign that, normally, you were due for ER visit. But now, she just dropped her hands, still clenching and unclenching, and glared. Finally, she hissed, "I can see why she left you.", before stomping off.

Clint looked between his girlfriend and the small mechanic before heaving the kid off his shoulders, getting him a squeak and a smack, and onto the top of the machine and took off after her. Tony started to slide down and quickly scrambled to get a hold on the sleek and sloping machine, grabbing the two shooters and pushing himself up. He pushed himself to his knees before dangling his legs around the lid, pushing it back down. Then, he slid himself down on his stomach until he stretched out over the lid and his head was hanging over the nose of the ship, peering under.

"You okay down there, Mister Monster?"

Bruce was still and quiet for a minute (Steve made a quick mental prayer to God, "I take it back, don't kill him. Yet."), before laughing and scooting back out enough to bump noses.

"Sure, but I'd really rather not get that 'up close and personal' with the blasters again. Ever."

Tony and Bruce laughed like old friends and Steve started to relax again. Tony didn't laugh like that too often anymore. Lately, he'd been so concerned with the ship and the plan and the rent-it reminded him that, even if they were leaving a lot behind, some of it was better off left at home. Steve sighed and stepped back, taking a moment to really look at the ship.

"Woooow!", he whistled. "So this what you guys have been doing on Movie Night, hmm? And here I was, thinking you'd secretly hooked up or something."

Tony rolled his eyes and blew a few tufts of brown hair out of his eyes. Guess I need to get it cut again, huh? "Yeah, well, I wouldn't touch left back seat, if you know what I mean.", he said with a wink.

Bruce snorted and slapped Tony's arm. "Oh _god_, no! Pepper would kill me."

Tony's face got hard again and his feet, which had previously been kicking in the air, dropped to the orange-tinted glass of the front.

"Yeah, about that-"

"Oh, are you finally gonna tell them?", Natasha said as she strolled in, Clint following not far behind. Clint's jacket was half unzipped and the collar on his turtleneck was stretched and loose. Natasha's hair was more crazy than usual and Clint still hadn't removed his hand from her back pocket.

Bruce grimaced and flew back under their project while Tony groaned and Steve covered his eyes.

"If you're gonna do it in the lot, can you at _least_ make it seem less obvious? Jesus Christ!"

"Aww, how sweet!", Natasha gave a sweet look and put a hand over her heart. "Well, I guess, if its for you, we can try."

She then, very dramatically, turned and began to make out with Clint. Clint moaned loudly and put one hand on her back, the one in her pocket clenching. Natasha's own hands moved to his butt, squeezing briefly before moving back up into his hair.

Tony briefly made a dark, sad face before going back to "eww"ing and making fake barfing noises. "Why are you doing this to us?", Steve shouted over the couples overly exaggerated groaning.

Natasha pulled back, slightly breathless. "Oh, I'm sorry, Steve. It's just that Tony said we couldn't make out in the lot, so I figured that meant he wanted us to do it here."

Natasha started to go back in, Clint grinning like the Grinch, but Tony stopped them.

"Okay, okay, sure, whatever, make out in the lot, the alley, Bruce's _bedroom_ for all I care. Just don't do it here.", Tony screeched, ignoring Bruce's protests.

Clint grinned and pulled back enough to shout, "Ah, ah, ah! What do we say?", before kissing and sucking a line down Natasha's neck.

Tony was starting to look seriously ill. "Please! Please, just stop doing what you're doing!"

For a second, they continued, then Natasha broke off mid-grunt and moved away from her boyfriend. Clint was laughing in that silent, breathless way he did when he found something truly funny, and Natasha joined in with her own "witch giggles", as Tony called them.

Steve uncovered his eyes with a sigh of relief and Tony threw his head back with a groan. "Finally! Now, Tash, can you check the list for me?"

Natasha calmed down a bit and nodded, pulling a sheet of paper out her back pocket. Going up to the front, she pulled the orange cover up and pushed the seat down with a kick of her heals. Jumping up, she climbed into the cockpit and over the seat, which descended like a ramp into the back, where two round booth seats had been cut out and drilled into the metal walls.

Underneath them were three big drawers that, when opened, held one gun each. The guns were oddly colored-blue with green screens around the grip and the chamber. The trigger was orange and, overall, the whole thing looked like a toy squirt gun.

"When I asked for weapons, I wasn't thinking of squirt guns.", she said, pointing the thing at Tony playfully.

Tony gasped and rushed fully into the back, taking the gun from her. "No, no, no. Don't use that. If you use it while its not plugged in, it'll lock up."

"Plugged in? Why would you need to plug it in? It's a toy!"

Tony rolled his eyes and reached into the drawer pulling out a length of black cord. He plugged the smaller end into the part where the safety would go on the gun, and the bigger end in an outlet inside the back of the drawer. He then shut it, letting the cord go through a small dip in the drawer at the top, and gave it back to Natasha.

"Now, point it at that target and shoot."

Natasha turned to a dart board Tony had put at the back and aimed for the center. But when she pulled the trigger, the kick was so strong, it made her fall back. When she looked back at the board, she found that all that remained of it was the outer rim. Everything inside of it had burned away, including a bit of the wall it was resting on.

Tony moved the target to the ground to inspect the wall, pulling out a roll of duct tape and shoving it over the still-sizzling flesh wound. Then, he grabbed the board and threw it to Bruce to throw away, who had leaned in to see the gun work its magic.

"Tony, what...what is this?", Natasha asked, looking at the gun.

Tony grabbed her hand and pulled her up with only some difficulty. "It's a laser gun. But it has to stay plugged in to work and its got a nasty kick." Tony patted the seats. "That's why I put the seats in. You'll be shooting out the windows."

"What windows-"

Tony turned a dial on the ceiling, which hung low over their heads. With two turns, the panels above their seats ascended into the metal frame of the ship, revealing Clint and Steve making funny faces and Bruce holding back a laugh while he leaned forward and handed something to Tony through the window.

"You might wanna put some of these in the drawers, Tony. Remember what Sif said?"

Tony nodded and began depositing the small things into the drawers.

"Hey, what are those?", Clint asked.

Tony turned around and smiled. "A little bird told us that the atmosphere on this side of the bridge is thicker than the air on the other end. Meaning, if we're not careful, we'll get laughing gas poisoning. Which, it turns out, isn't as funny as it sounds. Their nitrous oxide is a bit stronger than ours."

Bruce nodded. "She said the best idea is to find the closest thing to your normal air potency and pack a bit of it for emergencies. Or, in our case, any time you open the windows. Try not to do that often."

"What about the shooters up top? Who's gonna work those?"

Tony grinned. "Why, Clint, of course."

"Wait, what? But what about the gas? A-and we only have so much oxygen, right? Can't someone else do it?"

Tony laughed and shook his head, smirking evilly. "Don't worry, for you and Natasha, we got something different." He quickly climbed out of the ship, turning to Bruce. "Brucey, the serum, please."

Clint swallowed nervously and Natasha moved to stand closer to him, glaring at Tony. "Tony, you better not be going where I think you are with this."

Bruce came back down the stairs then, a red rusted tool box in one hand. And inside? Needles. Two, to be specific.

"Ah, thank you, Brucey, now if-", Tony started, grabbing the box. Suddenly, Bruce grabbed his arm, polite smile still in place. "Tony?"

"Uhmm, yeah?", he said, trying not to squeal at the pressure on his surely broken arm. Out of the corner of his eye, he say Steve step forward, irrepressible rage tinting his peaceful frame. Silently, he told him to step back.

"Stop calling me that.", Bruce answered, grin getting a bit harder as he squeezed Tonys arm then dropped it, walking back to the ship.

Tony winced slightly and prayed that what healing powers he had left would kick in soon.

"Anyway, these suckers," he said, pulling one said 'suckers' out of the box delicately, making Clint flinch. "Are our piece de resistance. The big ticket. Without these, our plan would fall completely apart-"

"What are we doing with them?", Clint asked, voice shaky but face determined. Natasha patted his arm.

"Well, as I said, you are going to be our shooter up top-and I'll show you the hatch later-and Natasha, I want you on the inside."

"Of the city? Doing what?"

Tony shook his head, turning to Bruce. "They really didn't do their homework, did they?"

Bruce shrugged and Steve sighed and stepped forward. "It'll take us about two days to get there. Do you know what happens in two days?"

Natasha gasped, "The coronation!"

Tony snapped and pointed to Natasha. "By Jove, I think she's got it!"

"We're crashing the coronation? But-wouldn't that attract too much attention?"

Tony smirked. "What do you think the guns are for, target practice?"

Clint gulped. "I've never-I don't think I can-"

"Oh trust me, short stop, you can. It's not that hard. Just aim and fire."

Natasha stepped up, snarling. "He means, he can't do it because he's never _shot anyone_ before."

Tonys smirk sunk, leaving him looking stormy and tired. "Well then, just remember that every person on that planet is in love with the man that took everything from them. You're doing them a favor. You're showing them the light."

Natasha's anger simmered down to a sad frown, Bruce's matching hers, and Steve actually reached forward and grabbed Tonys (non-broken) arm before it was tugged away. Clint, being the newest of the team, just looked confused.

"Oh, and one more thing before we set off-", Tony pushed past Natasha and Clint, digging in a drawer, eventually pulling out a small bucket and a brush. Walking over to Bruce's skateboard, he laid down and rolled it back under. He dunked the brush in the bucket and began painting.

After maybe three or four minutes, he called out for them to come look. Slowly, all of his "team" crawled up under the ship. When they did, most of them gasped. Underneath the ship, the word "Avenger" was painted big in white.

"I decided to name her The Avenger. You know, cause-well, you know-and I, uh-"

"I like it." Natasha said, gripping Clint's hand in hers.

"Me too." Clint said, smiling curiously at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Does that make us the Avengers?" Bruce asked. Clint shrugged and Tony nodded, grinning. "Yeah, I guess it does."

"He'd love it, Tony." Steve muttered to Tony as he scooted in next to him. When he looked at Tony, his eyes were locked on the words but they were glossy and a shaky smile sat underneath them.

"Thanks." He whispered, then louder, "Alright, team, lets set off!"

* * *

**A/N:** this is sort of late, but whatever. Read, review, watch The Avengers Cartoon Series. You know you want to.

*I edited it a bit. Also, just a note, the "nine realms" that Thor mentioned in the movie still exist-they're just the nine planets instead. As in our solar system. I'll probably mention all of them at some point.


End file.
